


Yours Always

by FactorialRabbits



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Balar, Child Abandonment, Gen, Letters, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Missions, because written in a rush in universe so imperfect, doom in prose, especially when you know it'll end before the childhood does, half of this is just one letter, headcanon and semi-canon in abounds, letter parts are unedditted, other characters appear in smaller parts, parenthood is hard, strange layouts, the amazing adventures of the fabulous balar boys, the cost of... something, the third generation thereof
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 20:48:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18454355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FactorialRabbits/pseuds/FactorialRabbits
Summary: Two letters, and an Erestor's eye view of how their addressees recieved them.





	Yours Always

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SpaceWall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceWall/gifts).



> These are more three things that are inately related to one another, but that I was not sure how to format so have kinda been smushed into one long thing. The two in italics are letters, with very short descriptions of their physical appearance in bold. In the center is the fiction that binds them together.
> 
> This comes from a specific verse I may or may not again write for, where Eärendil made friends with Gil-Galad, Celebrimbor, Oropher and Erestor when all of them were young(ish) adults on Balar. 
> 
> Notes: Ardamíre is iirc Eärendil's mother name, and is regardless being used as such. The symbol '●' is an ink-blott on the writing medium.
> 
> Repeating the content warnings for suicidal thinking, dooming doom and other such lovely things.
> 
> Also happy end of/nearly end of exams to those people sitting such at this time!

**_A Letter, written in two hands and on the tattered remains of a dead man's cloak_ **

_For the Attention of Rodnor Gil-Galad Erenion, High King of the Noldor in Middle Earth,_

_These are Elrond and Elros, the sons of the former Lord and Lady of Sirion. We are unable to protect them at current times, so I entrust them to your safekeeping. They are● very ●precious to m●y brother, and the most valuable thing that has passed our lands. I am told you are a gracious and proper king, and beg you to treat them well._

_Should any harm come to either of them, then I swear to you on what little hope there is left that I will destroy you and everything you care about._

_If it does not, you shall not hear from me again._

_Yours respectfully,_

_Maedhros, eldest son of Fëanor, dispossessed and kinslayer, formally King of the Noldor in Middle Earth, formally Lord of Himring, formally Lord of Amon Ereb_

_Post-Script_

_I would say more than the little here, but we ran out of clean parchment years ago, and this is all the clean cloth we can spare. I rather hope this is legible; to fit it all took quite some tight work._

_What my brother means to say is that the twins are very dear to us both, and have become as kin to us. Though it breaks my heart to send them away, they are still so young, and the front lines are no place for them. Especially not when we are surrounded on all quarter._

_Elros is sensitive. His anger is explosive, but so is his joy; he feels everything much more than you or I. He an eye for details, but turns it most often to causing mischief or attempting to out-maneuver us on the chess board. Still, he has an intense sense of right and wrong and fairness for his age, and a charisma that draws even the most reluctant to at least hear him. It can be very difficult to make him listen - if you need to, try taking him to the practice field or giving him some other physical exercise to pursue whilst you talk. Maedhros has had great success via speaking with him whilst jogging for endurance training. He does not take well to academic pursuits, but has a startling memory for all things practical. He cannot sit still, except when stealth is an absolute necessity, but try not to suppress his energy - it will only make things harder._

_Elrond, meanwhile, is a gentle soul, kind and with a love of all things. He also is studious and attentive, and seems to suffer from his familial curse of foresight, though we have not told him our suspicions of his dreams. However, he is frightfully protective of those he loves, and will not hesitate to harm or be harmed in their defence. He is more likely to try and see your side of an argument than his brother, but also more likely to not change his mind because of this. He tends towards internalising his distress, and joy as well. If you can find a way to help him express before it consumes him, I would be grateful. Unlike his brother, he is most happy left alone with a book and a comfortable corner - even when he has read the book many times before._

_I have sent them with everything we can spare. The food, men and materials are of course to be used as you see fit, so long as my people - the twins included - are clothed and fed. For the other things - the books, the trinkets - if the boys wish for them, please do not take them. It is all we have left by which we may even begin to pay our eternal and unending debts to them._

_Please, please love them for me. And even if you cannot love them, at least ensure that they are as happy as they can be and know that my fate is not their fault - that I lo- that they mean more to me than any hostage possibly could. They are only children; do not have them suffer for our failings._

_May we meet again in happier times,_

_Maglor, son of Fëanor_

* * *

It had been a number of years since Erestor had last seen the twin sons of Ardamíre - or, Eärendil, rather. He never had quite come to work out how he can come to be known by that name, but then the transmission of information was a strange thing.

They were tall for twelve, by either mortal or elven standards, and better dressed than the small contingent of guards they travelled with. There was more of their mother in their features than their father, that was quite clear. Not poorly treated, if the way they held themselves was any indication, and only the slightest scar on one of their cheeks. Elros, if they had not been not impersonating one another when offering introductions. Both were a little thin, but then so was the entire group, and their clothing no more tattered than the other’s. Certainly they were in a better state than their father had been when the refugees of Gondolin first arrived in Sirion.

The twin calling himself Elrond had presented Gil-Galad with a missive written on a scrap of torn cloth, then slipped back behind his brother. A moment later, their guard also shuffled as though to shield them.

From their reactions to Gil-Galad and Oropher, it seemed that they remembered little of their early childhoods. Erestor could not say he was surprised by this - certainly someone fully mortal would remember even less - but some of them seemed to be. There currently seemed to be some sort of ongoing argument.

Erestor strained to hear; it was quiet and muted enough that he could not make out the words. Still, the pattern the twins were speaking in seemed like… Maybe?

“Well if you cared so much why did you not come looking for us!” one of the twins screamed, finally bringing the muttered words to a screaming match.

Yes, definitely Fëanorian Quenya.

He exchanged a glance with Celebrimbor; his Lord gave a slight nod, before going to intercede before things got even uglier. As for Erestor himself, he slipped off to fetch Círdan in the hopes that he could mediate.

Children, no matter to whom they belonged, were not Erestor’s speciality.

* * *

The twins were settling anything but well. Elrond at least seemed to be trying to make friends, though most of his attempts were rebuffed; there were concerns that the boys might have been corrupted by their time with the Fëanorian brothers.

Erestor thought that that was utter hogwash, for they were clearly just children scared by the new experiences and loss of familiarity, but apparently that was enough to ostracise them.

The children were not exactly helping their cause, attached to each other at the wrist and barely speaking more than etiquette dictated they must, but such things were never the duty of the child. Especially when, under consideration, they were no less secretive than their father had first been.

It was not their responsibility, and they were handling the whole thing rather well. Still, ‘rather well’ where children was concerned usually meant ‘an explosive temper tantrum is imminent’.

The four of them who remained had discussed the topic, but were left at a loose end. The twins were rather attached to Lord Celebrimbor, speaking only to him when they needed something, but Lord Celebrimbor came hand in hand with King Gil-Galad, who seemed to inspire terror in them. Then there was Oropher, who may or may not have been a king and may or may not need to abdicate to one of them, and who definitely desperately wanted his kinsmen to trust them. And that was before anyone mentioned the mortal claims to them!

All in all, it was rather a mess, nobody seemed sure what to do, but at least Lord Celebrimbor could be trusted to look after them.

Of course, it was left to Erestor to try and find some way to widen the circle of people the would interact with; Lord Celebrimbor did have duties, and some of his people were displeased with his absence following the sudden appearance of children.

He had been thinking on the matter for weeks before he remembered something. Tucked away in a chest was everything they had found in the ruins of their home in Sirion, and in one of the drawers, a small mountain of letters that Ardamíre had written in case of his untimely death.

Once thought of, it took him only tens of minutes to pick out a few toys, and find the most recent editions of the letters. He made a small bundle for each of the twins, comprised of the things Erestor remembered their younger selves being most proud of, along with a couple of newer, age-appropriate toys for each. And at the bottom of each pile, a wax-sealed bundle of papers from their ever-travelling father.

With a little heartache, he realised that that was one area of their development that had been overlooked. Of course there were toys for them to play with around, but nothing specifically and uniquely theirs.

It was only a token gesture, really, but still the boy’s faces hesitantly lit up when he offered toys to them.

“Thank you Lord Erestor, sir,” the twins spoke the same words, but the tones were different.

“It is no difficulty; we have simply been remiss in failing to give you anything. And, I am no Lord, neither am I skilled enough to be master,” he hoped the smile he gave them was kind, not intimidating.

The twins grinned at him, and appeared to take that as permission to run away to their tents. He attempted to call them back and explain the letters, but they were beyond listening by then.

Hopefully it would work out for the best…

* * *

Nobody saw the twins for some time. Near sunset, Erestor caught them sneaking around the fireside close by. It was clear that they had been crying, even as Elros threw something into the fire, gestured indistinctly at his brother, and stormed off.

His observations did not entirely go unnoticed, however; Elrond’s eyes met his, and the young half-elf raised his chin slightly defiantly as he approached. Despite the stuffed whale hugged tightly against his chest.

“Good evening, my Prince,” Erestor gave a short bow. “May I be of assistance?”

Elrond looked hesitantly around, worrying on his lip, “Elros is angry.”

“I saw; he will calm down soon enough,” he was not entirely certain that that was true, but if one were to take a generous definition of soon it was probably impossible to be angry for that long.

“He is angry with me…” Elrond hung his head a little. “He says I am betraying them…”

“I doubt you are betraying anyone,” Erestor did his best to reassure, however ‘them’ happened to refer to.

Elrond hesitated for a long time, watching the fire. Erestor watched and, finding the answer would take some time, sat down on the damp grass.

Eventually, the Prince spoke again, “can you tell me about…” his difficulty in selecting a word was obvious. “... Eärendil…?”

“I am afraid I am not a good storyteller, sir,” Erestor bowed his head slightly, wondering why he had been approached and not Lord Celebrimbor. “You would be better speaking to one of the minstrels.”

“I do not want a _good_ story,” Elrond replied. “Or any platitude about how he is returning for me, or has been granted leniency from death to pilot that accursed star, as Lord Celebrimbor tells us. We know he abandoned us to die; the letters only confirm he knew it too.”

Erestor had his suspicions about what was thrown into the fire, once that was said. It also did not seem like a good time to point out that Ulmo himself had informed Círdan of Elwing and Ardamíre’s newfound elf-ness. He would just have to speak to someone with tact and have them handle it… Probably Círdan himself, “does your brother not wish to hear, too?”

“He says it does not matter, that he still left us, and so he should not matter to us more than any other ‘hero’ we are taught of.”

“Do you think it matters?” Erestor would of course answer the request, but wanted to know.

The hesitation was very long again, “atto, um, Maglor I mean, says that we should not pass judgement before having all information possible, lest I follow the mistakes of his kin. So I do not yet know if it matters.”

“Then you will be aware of my biases when I speak with you?”

Elrond nodded, “your words will not be fact. Nobody’s are, that is what it means to be real.”

Once again, Erestor was struck with just how well taught the boys were,“Very well, sit with me. What would you like me to tell you about?”

“...” Elrond hesitantly sat in front of Erestor. “Could you tell me something… human? Something that is not a hero story?”

A few ideas sprang to mind, though Erestor considered each in turn, before selecting something, “What about the time he dropped a jellyfish on uncle Círdan’s head?”

A slightly less cautious nod, accompanied by a painfully familiar smile, was his response.

“Well then let me see… He must have been about your age, though very much shorter. Princess Idril was busy, so his father bought him to Balar with him that day, and he was left in the care of Lord Celebrimbor and I…”

The hesitant trust in Elrond’s eyes as the story was crafted about him was more than worth any minor damage to his reputation.

* * *

**_A Letter, written in a single hand and on a stack of fragile parchment pages, bound with silk._ **

_Dearest Elrond,_

_I hope this letter never comes to you, but I know that it or one like it someday will. I try to update them as regularly as I can - Erestor should have some of the older ones, if you want to see more. If something, Valar forbid, has happened to your mother, then I want you to know that the people with this letter are trustworthy. Gil-Galad and Oropher are busy as kings, and Celebrimbor suffers the stigma of being a Fëanorian, but they and Erestor are as kin to me, and have sworn to protect and care for you if both your mother and I are gone. Cirdan, too, though I must confess it is odd to think of the man who took the place of my father as taking my place for my sons. Still, all five of them are very dear to me, and if you have nowhere else to turn they will be there. Or some of them will at least._

_Now for what I wish to say, rather than the formalities:_

_The first thing I want to say is that I love you. I love you and your brother more than anything. You are the only things in this world that bring me joy, and I would do anything to see you happy. If you think that you have done something that I would disapprove of, then I want to make one thing perfectly clear - you could join Morgoth, you could become a kinslayer, you could marry yourself to one of the Sons of Fëanor or whatever else, and I would still love you more than life itself. I might be upset, and I might not approve, but I would love you anyway._

_The second thing that I want to say is that, yes, I know I am going to die. That is part of the reason I am writing this letter; if I fail, I will keep on trying until I succeed or die trying, but if I succeed then, well, I am mortal. Mortals are not permitted to set foot in Valinor and live. Even if they call me Noldor, that kindred are also exiled on pain of death. Failure and success will both mean death._   
_If I know I will die, why do I do it? I could pretend to be a good person, I could say it is to save the world and all the kindreds to which I belong - and the others too - but it would be a pretense. I could call it destiny, and given all the prophecies that have been held over my head it would probably be true, but that seems like a making an excuse, like me denying responsibility for my actions._   
_You are my son, and you deserve better than an absent father, and you certainly deserve better than excuses from one. Unfortunately I have yet to find a way to write this which does not sound like one, but you deserve the attempt. You deserve the world._   
_I am going on a suicide mission because I cannot stand to live in the world any more. In part I am trying to make a world in which you can live, and in part I am trying to escape one in which I cannot. When I say that only Elros and you bring me joy, I was being quite honest. Your mother brings me some comfort, but the emotions I once felt for her are dulled and cold. Where once I loved the world, much as you do, laughing and playing in the gardens whilst I write this, there is only grey and exhaustion. It is a sickness, and my father lived it too. I would do anything that neither of you are forced to experience it; it consumes everything, until all you can think of and perceive is the call of the oceans. At this point, it has consumed near everything I am. I do not remember what I enjoy, and I can find no hope or joy in the world. I want to love the world again, I want to have hope again, but I cannot as long as the sea continues calling, as it always will, and I would rather die than live without it._   
_But, yes, the point of the matter is that I go on a suicide mission, because somebody has to try and when I both want to die and have a calling to the sea, it may as well be me who tries._

_I am not really sure what can be said now; there is more I want to say than I can possibly imagine, and all the parchment and time in the world would not be enough. It may also get somewhat awful to read, so what I have done is asked a few people who lost their parents young what, if given the chance to ask their parent any one question, they would ask and answered then for you here._

_1) If you can only share one bit of advice, what would it be?_

_Find beauty in everything, forgive what you can, life is too short and the world is too marred for it to be worth doing anything else._

_2) What is your favouite childhood memory?_

_Swimming in the fountain of the king in Gondolin, with mother and father and Glorfindel in the water with me, and Ecthelion playing something on that flute of his. He later taught me to play it, and it is still one of my favourite songs. And also the lullaby I would sing for you. I’ve included the music he taught me, and the words mother added to try and comfort me after his death, as I sang them to you and your brother on the back of this leaf._

_3) What was your first kiss like?_

_Not that great, honestly. Neither of us had any idea what we were doing, and I ended up tripping over due to how far up I had to reach, and broke my nose on the cobbles. The ones just behind the bakery store your mother really likes. I think there are still some blood stains in the cobbles from it. No serious harm was done, and we laughed a lot about it later. We also got a lot better at it over time. It was also the only time I ever injured myself falling, a record that stands to this day so long as we don’t include being swept overboard as falling._

_4) What was the most rebellious thing you have ever done?_

_Rebellious● Probably the time I ran away from mother to follow father to Balar, then spent all day playing at the port. Círdan found me, and he was even less impressed than my parents. But it is also how I first met Erestor, Oropher, Celebrimbor and Gil-Galad. They were exceptionally tolerant of me playing with them, and are the brothers I never had._

_5) What do you regret the most? And what would you change if you could do it over?_

_Leaving the two of you behind so young. I do not know how I could change it, but even if it meant running from my parents at the memorial feast for Gondolin so I did not hear the song, or screaming until it stopped, or● I do not know how I could change that without causing you more pain, but know that I would in a heartbeat if I could._

_6) What did you want to be as a child?_

_I do not really remember very well, but Lord Galdor mostly cheerfully informs me that I wanted to be Ecthelion._

_7) What did I want to be as a child?_

_You, my dear, wanted to be a sea snail. Your brother wanted to be a dolphin. At least, that is what you each wanted to be when I asked you half an hour ago. Yesterday you both wanted to be seagulls. Though, if you mean something achievable, then, Elrond, you told me and your mother that you weren’t sure, but you wanted to help people. I cannot think of anything more admirable, and was incredibly proud. But please also remember that if you decide you want to take a different path that is fine too; my pride is not continent on a single option. You could do anything and I would still be proud - even become one of the Dark Lord's lieutenants. Please do not do that though. I might be proud of your success but I would be very upset that you were now evil. Maybe instead we shall use the example of making me mud and worm pies for eternity instead? There. Even if your culinary abilities never progress past mud pies, I shall be peeps of them and you._

_8) Where is home?_

_I am very sorry, but I have no answer for this. If you ever discover one, please let me know._

_9) How did you chose my name?_

_We wanted to name you as respectfully to both of our people’s traditions as possible. Your mother’s people only give one name, so we thought we would leave others for you to define for yourself. I● dislike my names, and so we used hers to form a root for yours - the ‘El’. You yourself are named after the cave where your mother and I first met. It is just above the port, and has the most beautiful views of the sky in all of Sirion. She was hiding from her teachers and I had been permitted to explore. If you wish to pick another name, I do not at all mind; I worry about taking an epessë incase it upsets my parents, so please be certain that your mother and I will never be offended if you do. It is your name, afterall, part of your identity. You should be free to choose who you are for yourself.●_

_10) What is your happiest memory?_

_The first time I took you out to the beach. You and your brother were still very young, but you would not settle and everyone was exhausted. I had you both wrapped in blankets for warmth, and so I could tell which of you was which, and though you were far too small to understand I told you about all the constellations and the stories in them. And, for a few moments, it was just the two of you and me and the sky - no Morgoth to worry about, no war looming ever over our heads, no ocean calling me to drown myself. It was beautiful, and the last time I was at peace._

_11) What advice would you give your younger self?_

_Tell mother about the vase I broke. She knew anyway, and was incredibly disappointed that I had tried to hide it._

_12) What is the best advice you have ever been given? And the worst?_

_The best would probably be how to get grass and blood stains out of carpet - I’ve put the method on the back with the music. The worst would probably be to just kiss anyone I liked. I was corrected immediately by my mother, but I can see that going horribly, horribly wrong._

_13) I don’t think I can carry on._

_Maybe you can, maybe you cannot. If you have the option, put whatever it is down for a little bit, wrap yourself in a blanket and rest, then try again. Maybe with someone else. If you cannot● You just have to keep trying● I am so very sorry you have to experience this. There is no shame in asking for help, and there is no shame in failure. I love you whatever happens. I would take any burden for you, if I could. But as you have turned to this letter, that means I cannot. In which case, know this; I love you, I am proud of you, and if you feel there is no other option ●● Well, I am not a good example of options, given I took a suicide mission because of this exact feeling. Just know that I am proud of you, even if you fail, even if you give up●●● even if you also choose to end it._

_14) What is something you have always wanted but never had?_

_In Gondolin, there was a lady who carved statues. She had this beautiful carved bouquet of flowers, almost alive in their appearance. I can still remember them even now, and have drawn them on one of the back-pages. It is a silly little thing, but I was saving up to buy them when Gondolin fell, so then they took on another meaning._

_15) Are there any strange family traits I should be aware of?_

_Curse of the Noldor, predisposition towards sea-longing, Ossë has it out for us but Ulmo likes us● Oh, yes. I am not sure how far back it goes, but both your grandmother and I sometimes experience prophetic vision-dreams. We are not sure if this is inheritable, but given you also share Luthien’s blood I would not be surprised if you do. It is not a pleasant one; ammie would get plenty of warning, but mine are always too late to be useful, and even for her they were intensely distressing. Now I think about it, my grandfather had dreams with future relevance even if they were more messages than prophecy. So, yes, probably watch out for that. There is likely to be meaning in your dreams._

_16) What is the most valuable thing your parents taught you?_

_That no matter how much you love someone, no matter how much they say they love you, sometimes they let you down and hurt you in ways nobody else ever could. And usually, it is not at all your fault._

_17) What is the most valuable thing I taught you?_

_You taught me what a starfish is, of course._   
_More seriously, you taught me how to forgive my parents, if only because I must do the same to you for the same reason as they did it to me._

_18) What is your favourite flower?_

_Pansies. Especially the purple and yellow ones. They are just very pretty. I used to put them in Lord Egalmoth's hair - I do not think he was best impressed._

_19) Why did you have me if you knew you were going to abandon me?_

_You were born at a time I still believed I could manage the sea-longing with short trips, at least long enough to be old in mortal terms. I was wrong; if I had known I would not have dreamed of inflicting my absence on you. My father did the same thing. It hurt. It hurt a lot, and I was an adult. I can only imagine what grief I have inflicted on you, and I know I will never be able to make it up to you. As for the question, you were born because I thought I could fight it, and both your mother and I loved children in our own ways. It sounds selfish, but is there any selfless reason to being children into a dying world? I● honestly have no idea._

_20) What is one thing you own that you truly hate?_

_My name. Both of mine are are names bounded in prophecies about what I should be, not who I was. Ardamíre is pretentious, and Eärendil● I do not love the sea, that is a lie people tell themselves because it makes them feel better whilst explaining my behaviour. I hate the sea. I hate the sea more than anything else in the world, because it stole my parents from me and now it steals me from you, and there is nothing I can do but watch it happen whilst feeling like a willing participant. At least my mother-name is not a lie, however ridiculous it sounds._   
_Okay, something sillier●There is this small metal goat on the mantelpiece. It is a hideous thing, ugly even for a goat. But it was the only thing my mother had left that belonged to hers, so I cannot exactly get rid of it._

_21)What do you remember about my grandparents? And yours?_

_I do not remember anything about your mother’s parents, them having been killed long before we met. For the part of my parents● My father, Tuor, was always described as elfy for a mortal. In Gondolin I did not believe it, but after seeing him around other mortals● Yes, he was. But there was still mortality on him, always a little freer with him emotions than the elves. He wore his heart on his sleeve, and you knew exactly what he was feeling. I loved him more than anything, and I was so thrilled when I heard Ulmo’s voice like him. I did not understand why he was so heartbroken until I watched him nearly die. For he was stronger than I - he managed to stay until my wedding which, if I am to be quite honest, we would have delayed if he were not quite so ill. It was difficult to reconcile the bright, laughing and strong man of my childhood with the aging man of my adulthood, who could barely find the strength to do more than gaze at the waves, everything but the determination to see me to my wedding taken from him. He also had the most wonderful hands. Even at his worst, they had a fascinating pattern of calluses I regret not remembering, and I would play with them for days and hours on end._   
_As for my mother, she was always so very sad. When I was older I came to appreciate the way she took everything in her stride, adapting to anything at a moment’s notice. She also loved her father a great deal (I suppose this will make you the first generation to not - I do not blame you, of course, merely observe it), and I think it broke her to not be able to tell him about Maeglin and her secret passage. In Gondolin she seemed to live in constant fear, for me more than herself. I distinctly remember nights when she would drag me down to the forges, crafting me armour in secret that I was supposed to covertly wear every hour of every day each time I outgrew my last set. In the end the paranoia saved my life, it saved the lives of hundreds in Gondolin, and it was triggered by foresight in dreams, but it ruined her life. I think I only ever saw her smile in Sirion, and I never heard her laugh._   
_My father’s parents died before he was born, and I did not come to know his foster-father very well at all. His name is Annael, if you wish to seek him out and ask him yourself. He lived on Balar the last I knew of it. My mother’s mother had been dead even longer, but I will tell you what I can of her father._   
_There are many who can tell you about Turgon as a king, but I doubt there are many who can tell you of other things. He was incredibly tall and would let me ride on his shoulders around Gondolin, always with the same serious expression on his face as he took his life. He rarely smiled, but he always seemed to have some for my mother and I. I think he struggled a lot with what had happened to the Noldor, and also to his own father, and the stresses of being king sat very heavily upon him. The time he smiled the brightest was when I drew our family and, even though I drew Maeglin with a frowney face and separate from the rest of us, I included him. And also drew grandpa without his crown, and tried my best to guess what grandma Elenwë, and his siblings, looked like. He picked me up and hugged me so tightly, the only time he ever did it without being asked to - though he never told me no if I did - then helped me draw in my father’s father and uncle. And he told me stories I now cannot remember of their few years as his fosterlings in Gondolin._   
_I guess you would also like to know about Maeglin. I do not really have a lot I can say; my mother was scared of him, and had confessed her fears to most who babysat me, so I was generally kept away. I did not really understand why, not until he tried to kill me during the Fall, and even then I did not really. I still have a scar from where the knife managed to break the armour I wore - he was by far a better smith than mother - but it was just good enough to save my life. Now, though, that I know what happened a little better if not completely, I feel kind of sorry for him. I am not sure I should, but I do hope that he finds peace in death. Nobody really deserves to die._

_22) What will happen when I die?_

_I have no idea. Current theory says that you and I likely have the gift of men, so to die is to go beyond the world and explore there, but we have no way of knowing. For my part● I think I rather prefer that to the idea of being a mortal than an elf, so I do not think that is any bad thing. There is no joy or hope left for this marred world, so surely the chance to step beyond, to explore elsewhere is a blessing? It is the chance of a new and beautiful start. And is that not a wonderful thing?_

_23) What was your birth-town like?_

_Gondolin was● I do remember remember it well. There are likely many others who could describe it better. It was frozen in a few moments, standing on the precipice of its fall. But it was also home - great stone buildings, family, fountains and false rivers and great feats of engineering. There was this tiny corner in the throne room, the perfect size for me to hide in, where I could watch grandpa do things. They must have known of it, but I was humoured. Always, always humoured. I was happy there, in a way I have never been since I had to flee, and its loss hurts nearly as much as losing my parents or leaving you._

_24) What are you afraid of?_

_Dogs and wolves. Your grandfather was very upset by this, loving dogs himself, but they terrify me on a deep and instinctive level - and have since Gondolin fell._

_25) Do you love me?_

_Without hesitation, without doubt, and no matter what you have done. I love you. Always._  
  
  
_Your father,_  
 _Eärendil Ardamíre_

**Author's Note:**

> As for Earendil's 25 questions, I did actually gather suggestions from fleshy-friends without parental contact for one means or another about what they would want to know from their parent, then selected out the ones I would be most interested in knowing about mine. Or thought were important. 
> 
> Both of these letters do eventually end up in Elrond's collection in Imladris. Elros also got a letter, but being an angsty pre-teen burnt it without finishing reading it. Which is kinda a fair response.


End file.
